Miracle
by EnduranceInHope
Summary: When Nasya bat-Eliam wakes up to find herself in Middle Earth and exchanges a battlefield in ancient Israel for a whole new adventure. First full length LOTR Fic. OC, tenth-walker. Eventual Boromir/OC.
1. Prologue

_**LOTR is not mine, it belongs to Tolkien. **_

Burning. Everything was burning. The smell of fiery hay filled the air and the screams of woman, the cries of children, and the grating of swords against one another punctured the night. Nasya tried to block it all out as she pulled her sword from the body of yet another Babylonian officer. She had lost track of her father sometime after the enemy had breeched the walls of Jerusalem and now she was desperately trying to find him. She weaved her way between the burning buildings, dodging falling debris and dead bodies. Finally she reached the road leading up to the temple. Her father, devout man that he was, would try to protect the house of Yahweh. She came to a screeching halt upon entering the outer court. Israelites lay dead everywhere. Knowing she would not have to go past this place, the young woman searched for her father's body. Nasya knew the horror that battle would bring, but nothing in the world could have prepared her for seeing her father's broken body.

The Israelite girl knelt down and began a prayer for this man that had been her sole parent through the years. However, the sounds of approaching feet cut her petition short. She searched the body, found what she was looking for, and stood to face her opponents.

Four Babylonian guards came charging towards her. She meet ever thrust with a block and every with every swing her sword tasted blood. But four grown men against one woman, even one of her skill and bloodline, was no fair fight. While blocking one solider, another sliced her side. Nasya fell to the ground, feigning death. The men stood over her arguing. The sound of a horn pierced resounded over the other sounds of battle. More footsteps echoed through the courtyard heading towards the gate. Her heart fell as she realized what the horn meant. Jerusalem was lost. Blood continued to pour out of her side, as the horn began to fade and the barbaric cheers of the conquers took over. The sun began to raise, the beautiful red and gold tainted by the grey smoke. Her heart continued to break as the sounds of men pillaging the temple met her ears. She wished for death, and it came. The sun reached its midpoint and Nasya bat-Eliam knew nothing.


	2. Where?

_**So, this story is going to be movie-verse. I'm reading through LOTR right now and the direction I have this story going it is not going to really work with how the book goes. I'll try to have details worked in from the book, but again, this story will follow the movies for the most part. **_

_**I don't own LOTR. Just my OC. **_

_Something is not right, _I thought, _other than the fact that I've just died….or have I? _The ground was wet, there was grass, and crickets were chirping. _Wait, what? _ I fully regained consciousness and sat up, regarding my present surroundings. The temple was gone, and burning buildings of stone had been replaced with an over abundance of trees. One thing was for sure- I was no longer in Jerusalem. And I was almost positively not in Judea and, though I had never been outside our region, I ruled out Babylon. So, the question remained. Where was I and why was I no longer dead?

Seeing no immediate answer to my questions I assessed my situation and environment as my father had taught me, pushing aside the grief as I thought of him. My circumstances were too precarious to allow my mind to be overcome with emotions. The cut in my side healed nicely, regardless of the jagged, white scar that streaked around my waist. I had lost my sword, but retained my sling and my pouch of stones. I was just as deadly with those anyway.

I stood stock still, on sounds to orient myself, as it was dark out. I heard the rushing of water. A river was nearby. I started toward that, knowing that a river would lead me to people. I just hoped that they were friendly. Upon reaching the bank I knelt and scooped up water with my hand to drink. Looking around I managed to make out a length of rope stretching across the river with a wooden deck attached to my side next to a dock. I determined that it was for transportation to the other side.

Loud voices interrupted my examination. Shouts, followed by the sound of horse hooves drew my attention to the forest behind me. I stood by the dock slingshot at the ready, when four small people burst through the trees. I would've thought them to be children but their voices sounded like adults. One by one they ran past me, paying me little mind as they hopped on to the wood deck.

The three already on continued to shout for "Frodo," who I assumed to be the one with curly black hair and not yet on the deck. It was then that I saw them, barely visible in the inky blackness. Black men riding on black horses- metal spikes on their arms, long swords strapped to their sides, an evil air about them . . . and chasing Frodo. I had seen enough of battle to know that if someone is coming at you with swords they do not want the best for you—more so if they are going after four people the size of children who are unarmed.

I had to do something. I took up my sling, placed a stone into the pocket, lined up the shot and . . . _ding. _

I hate metal armor, but it got the black rider's attention away from Frodo so that he could get away. One of the small ones began pulling the deck across the water and Frodo leaped across, successfully landing into the arms of his companions.

"Get on," shouted one of them. "They are coming!" The urgency in his voice told me to listen. The black riders started toward me as I began running. They were too far out for me to make the jump all the way, but I managed to get close enough for the small ones to pull me in.

It took a minute for us to get all sort out, meanwhile I glanced back and saw the black men head back into the trees. Instinct told me that they would be looking for a way to find us again.

"Who are you?" My thoughts were interrupted by Frodo's inquiry. I was met with stares of suspicion from the other three, but most strongly from the larger one pulling the deck. I went to answer, but suddenly realized that they weren't speaking Hebrew. What baffled me even more was that I understood what they were saying. My breaths were coming out deep and ragged and my head was pounding as I tried to make sense of what was going on.

_Black riders with metal armor, small people, and a language I don't know but can understand? Breathe Nasya!_

"You all right miss?" one of the red haired ones asked.

I sucked in a few deep breaths before answering. "Yes, I'll be alright. I'm Nasya." I surprised myself by responding in their language.

"Nasya?" questioned the one driving. "What kind of foreign name is that?"

"I'd be able to answer that better if I knew where I was."

"You're on the way to Bree," said the shortest one.

_Bree? _I sank down onto the dock. A water skin was placed in front of my face until I looked up.

"I'm Frodo." 

I nodded as I accepted the water.

"I'm Merry," said one with reddish hair. "This is Pippin." He inclined his head to the shortest of the bunch.

Again, I nodded. I was still trying to control my breathing. I stared at the one pulling the platform. He returned my stare evenly.

Frodo rolled his eyes. "That's Sam."

"Nice to meet you all." I stood. "Now why were you being chased by those black riders?" Everyone went so quiet that I could hear the breeze that had previously been masked by all the excitement.

"We're not really sure," Pippin said. Merry shrugged. But Frodo and Sam shared a look. It was quick, but telling. Hairs stood up on the back of my neck. My stomach clenched as I shifted into a defensive stance. Something was wrong.

_**So yeah, I finally updated. Hopefully, there will be more coming soon. **__**I hope you enjoyed and please remember to review! **_

_**Blessings- WovenInASong**_


	3. What?

_**I'm really sorry that it's taken me so long to post, but here it is. **_

_**I don't own LOTR, just Nasya. **_

It was raining hard by the time we made it to Bree. The darkness had made it hard to see while we were walking, but after what seemed like an eternity we had made it to our destination. I didn't know that it was possible for a gate to be so foreboding and yet welcoming.

"Hobbits . . . four of you . . . and a lass. What business do you have in Bree?" The gatekeeper inquired of us. I realized that hobbits must be what Frodo and his companions were known as.

Frodo stepped forward to answer. "We need to get to the Prancing Pony, our business is our own."

_What do we want with a prancing pony? _I thought to myself. Merry seemed to notice my quizzical expression.

"It's an inn," he said. I smiled in thanks, still not quite confident in this new language I had seemingly acquired.

I smirked as the gatekeeper let us in. Frodo was showing himself to be a rather formidable person, despite his small size. It wasn't long before we found the inn, with no small trouble navigating the streams of wagons and people. The Prancing Pony was nothing special as far as inns go. Plain exterior, a sign to mark the entrance and lots of loud noise and lantern light inside—it was much like the inns my father would warn me against when we went to live in Jerusalem. The man I assumed kept the inn greeted us, but I continued to be even more puzzled when Frodo asked after a person called Gandalf.

"Oh yes, I remember. That elderly chap, big grey beard, and a pointy hat?" the innkeeper asked. Frodo and Sam nodded in confirmation. "Haven't seen him for six months."

Sam's eyes widened slightly and Frodo eyes became concerned, his face showing every bit of his exhaustion from the day's activities. The only ones seemingly unaffected were Merry and Pippin as they found us a table towards the far side of the room.

I glanced around as we became situated. The inn was full of drunken men—boisterous and unashamedly crass. Several looked me over and I was vaguely grateful for a borrowed cloak from Pippin that covered the torn part of my tunic. The air was filled with the smell of burnt grass, smoke coming out of pieces of wood. I learned from Merry that they were known as "pipes." The hobbits tried introducing me to something they called "ale." It tasted like dirt. At my look of distaste Merry brought me some water, along with a bigger mug of ale for himself.

Minutes passed as I began to tune out the noise and observe the various patrons. I was vaguely aware of Pippin's departure from our table in order to find a matching drink to that of his companion's and Frodo's attempts to comfort Sam. As we sat quietly I noticed one particular man off to the side in a booth by himself. His dark cloak made him almost unnoticeable in the dimly lit room. A large hood shrouded his face as grey smoke from his pipe curled upward into the air. 

"That fellow has done nothing but stare at us since we arrived." I glanced towards Sam, startled by his harsh tone.

Frodo calmly inquired about the man to the innkeeper.

"He's one of those rangers, dangerous folk they are. I've never caught his real name, but around here he is known as Strider."

The name seemed to mean something to Frodo, but he showed no more interest in the man. I watched as he closed his eyes, as if he was falling asleep, all the while fiddling with a gold ring. But as suddenly as he had been lured into this trance he snapped out of it again with the sound as Pippin announcing his name to be Frodo Baggins.

I was confused. Frodo had given his surname as Underhill to the innkeeper. Why would he lie? I increasingly felt a sense of unease as Frodo rushed through the crowed to silence Pippin. I glanced toward the mysterious man again—only to find his attention completely on Frodo, or at least where Frodo had previously stood.

I searched around the room; Sam, Merry, and Pippin looked frantic as they too glanced around the room. As suddenly as he disappeared, Frodo appeared again. I was the only one who saw Strider grab him and lead him up a set of stairs. I motioned to the others and they followed.

I heard Strider's deep, accented voice coming from a room to the left. Again I motioned to the three little folk behind me. Merry grabbed a chair, Pippin a candle stand, and Sam just put up his fists . . . and burst through the door.

"Let him go or I'll have you Longshanks!" Strider only looked slightly annoyed.

"You have a stout heart, little hobbit," he said as he put away his sword, "but that will not save you." He looked over at me, suspicion in his eyes. "Who are you?"

Before I had the chance to answer for myself, Pippin spoke up.

"This is Nasya. She saved Frodo from black riders on our way to Bree." Strider looked to Frodo, who nodded.

"It's true. Black riders came after us and she distracted them so that we could get a start on the ferry over." Strider regarding me again, and his face took on a look of grudging acceptance before returning to the hobbit before him.

"You can no longer wait for the wizard Frodo. They are coming." By "they" I assumed that he was speaking about the black riders. _But wait, a wizard—as in, a magic practicing wizard? What sort of Gentiles had I fallen in with? _

_**Please review! Blessings- Woven**_


	4. Night Talks

_**As always I don't own LOTR or any of it's characters… Nasya is the only one that came from my mind. **_

_**Enjoy- Woven**_

Aragorn regarded his five charges as they slept, or attempted to in Nasya's case. Somehow she had been the one to end up sleeping on the floor, even though Sam had insisted that she take a spot on the bed. Turning back to the window, he remembered how she smoothly talked her way out of a proper place to sleep. He figured it was a matter of principle for this foreigner, but he admired the diplomacy that she employed, ensuring that the hobbits were not offended or felt as if they were being rude by allowing her to take the ground.

He hoped the hobbits enjoyed the bed. It would be the last one they slept on for a while.

"Do you really think the black riders will come here?" A feminine voice broke Strider from his thoughts. He looked to Nasya as she positioned herself on the ledge across from him.

"Most certainly," he responded. Nasya nodded and looked out the window into the darkness and to the inn across the way from them as the ranger sharpened one of his daggers.

"Why are they hunting him?" Strider stopped his movements and again regarded his unexpected charge.

"Why do you care?" he asked, as he jabbed his dagger back into its sheath. Nasya looked more hurt than surprised.

"You have nothing to fear from me Strider," she said, in what she hoped was a reassuring tone. "I do not care for those who would hunt defenseless beings for no reason."

Strider gave a rueful chuckle.

"Yes, they are being hunted. But not without reason." 

Nasya opened her mouth to press further when an unearthly shriek rent the air, causing her to jump and the hobbits to awaken. Merry, Pippin, and Sam's eyes were wide with terror; only Frodo and Strider retained any semblance of clam. But even Frodo seemed nervous to Nasya as he asked the question most prominent in all of their minds.

"What are they?"

Strider allowed the shrieking to fade before answering in a far away tone, reciting a piece of history that Frodo would need to know.

"They were once men, great kings of men. Men Sauron the deceiver gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will. They're the Nazgul, ring wraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the ring, drawn to the power of the one. They will never stop hunting you."

Strider watched as a sense of dread settled onto the hobbits. Then he looked towards the young woman, still sitting across from him. She did not look scared as much as uncertain. Her hand fiddled with pendent that lay around her neck and Strider briefly wondered about its significance.

"We will leave at first light," he said, refocusing on the hobbits. "Get some rest, you will need it."

_**I know it's a lot shorter than the last two, however the stopping point felt right and the next couple of chapters will be longer. **_

_**Please remember to review! **_

_**Blessings- Woven**_


	5. Trouble

_**At last, after a rather crazy final semester of college, I am able to post an update. Guess what? We have left Bree! **_

_**Who those who reviewed and left comments about the changes in POV—I understand. I'm currently experimenting with different ways to present points of views in stories, which is one of the reasons why I'm changing perspectives. I may end up editing this story and switching it all to third person, but for now the way I best get into Nasya's head is to write her in first person. **_

_**Even after completing a special topic class on Tolkien's works I still do not own any of the characters or Middle Earth. Nasya is my character. **_

It was rather early when we set out from Bree the morning after our experience with the Nazgul. I did not know exactly what lay before me but I knew two things: that this world I was in was full of dangers and that Frodo seemed to trust Strider. Seeing that I had no other place to go I deemed it wise to follow my halfling companions.

"Where are you taking us?" Sam asked.

"To Rivendell Master Gamgee, to the house of Elrond," came Strider's reply.

Again, the names left me puzzled, but Frodo smiled. Sam paused momentarily, his mouth slightly open, before shaking himself out of his daze.

"We're going to see the elves!" he exclaimed.

I surmised that "elves" were a tribe of people in this world and that they would be friendly enough to give us sanctuary from the foul beings that were in pursuit of Frodo and the foreign object that he carried.

The sound of Sam echoing some of my earlier thoughts to Frodo caught my attention.

"How do we know we can trust this Strider?"

Frodo glanced at the back of the man leading us. "I think that a servant of the enemy would seem fairer but feel fouler."

I smiled at the hobbit's wisdom. But there were still many questions that troubled my mind. However, as our march progressed I forced myself to focus on our surroundings lest the Nazgul catch us off guard. I also wanted to show Strider that I was helpful given the chance and could be trusted. All questions, just like my grief for my father needed to be pushed aside . . .

_Azariah… _I stopped momentarily at the thought. _What has become of Azariah, Hananiah, Mishael, and my cousin Daniel? _These thoughts troubled me almost as much as the fact that my father was dead. Not only because I did not know what became of them after the battle but because I had not thought of them until now—my cousin, his friends… and my betrothed, Azariah.

"Nasya!" Strider's shout brought me out of the storm in my mind. "We don't have time to stop now. We continue until nightfall."

I noticed that Frodo and the others were repacking after an attempted break. Strider was right, there was no time to stop and taking time to grieve now would be dangerous. I pushed back against the overwhelming thoughts and determined in my heart to do what I could for my new friends.

We could not have been traveling for more than a week when we came to what appeared to be an old fortress. Strider announced that we would camp there for the night and with a tired sigh the hobbits laid down their packs as Strider pulled out a leather wrapped bundle. Four swords made an appearance as the folds were pulled back. I frowned as he handed them to the hobbits—those swords were not fit to be wielded against the foes we were facing. _But a sword is better than no sword_, I thought to myself.

"Shouldn't Nasya get a sword?" Pippin's compassionate voice made me forget my misgivings for a moment.

"It is well Pippin. You will need the sword more than I and I have my sling," I pulled out the length of leather from my pack. Strider gave me a skeptical look, but the hobbits seemed heartened.

"Don't you mean a slingshot, Miss?" Sam asked me.

"Slingshot?" My expression must have been humorous, Merry and Pippin certainly thought so. Strider merely rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to scout the area," he said, adjusting his sword.

The night wore on, Strider had yet to reappear, and sleep eventually came over me. My dreams were filled with turmoil, as I smelled the sharpness of smoke and hearing the roaring flames that destroyed my beloved city. The clanging of sword, chaotic shouts, and desperate pleas of dying men filled my ears. It was, oddly enough, the high-pitched shriek of the Nazgul that finally startled me out of my nightmares.

I jumped up as the hobbits huddled together in a circle. Merry urged me to join them as I pulled my sling out of my pouch and loaded it with one of the sharper stones I had with me. I shook my head no,

"I can't use my sling from here, I have to have more room. Don't worry I'll be nearby and Strider will be on his way by now."

I figured he would have heard the shrieks and would know to make his way back. I skirted to the edge of the stonewall and slipped out one of the openings. The black riders did not take long to appear, moving like I always imagined Death would if it had a body—slowly, as to make sure you knew your doom, their swords raised and ready to strike.

Five of them stepped into the hollow space and worked to corner the hobbits. As the attack began I stepped into an opening, swung my sling a few times to give the stone the right momentum, and released the stone to its mark. My aim was true as the stone landed at the point where the spine meets the neck. The black rider shrieked and turned to find the source. I frowned. _That should have brought him to his knees. _But then I remembered what Strider had said about these not being men. _We're doomed. _

I looked up, preparing to strike again, but Frodo was, once again, nowhere to be seen. Merry, Sam, and Pippin were all to busy fighting the riders to pay attention, but I saw that he was gone. However, one of the Nazgul was particularly focused on a certain spot in the ground. Realizing what was about to happen, I wound my sling again. But, before I could release my stone to find it's mark, the black rider brought his sword down. 

"Argh," Frodo cried out as he reappeared. I prepared to rush the Nazgul to keep him from finishing Frodo, but at that moment Strider returned, fending off the Nazgul with fire and his sword. I let him do his work as I rushed to help my new friend.

The wound was deep and black around the edges. It was unlike anything that I had ever seen and my knowledge of healing was limited to minor cuts and burns, nothing that would be of help to Frodo.

"What's wrong with him?" Sam asked pleadingly. Strider picked up the blade used against the wounded hobbit and sighed.

"He's been stabbed by a morgul blade. This is beyond my ability to heal, he needs elfish medicine." Strider picked Frodo up, and we started running.

"We'll never make it in time," cried Sam.

"He will make it," I said, trying to reassure myself as well as the others. "He has to make it." Amid the sound of our pounding feet I heard Strider bid Frodo to hang on.

We had been running for a night and a day when we finally stopped in an area that Strider seemed familiar with. He sent Sam out for an herb that would help to slow the progress of the poison that was coursing through Frodo's body.

"Will he live?" I asked our guide. He looked at me strangely, as if he was trying to decide what to tell me. I knelt down so I could face him. "I'm not one of the hobbits," I whispered fiercely, "I have seen death before. Now tell me the truth." He sighed.

"If we can't slow the poison he will not make it to Rivendell where he would get the care he needs." He sounded so powerless. But after regarding Frodo a while longer he rose, handed me his sword, and bid me to look after the hobbits.

"Where are you going?"

"To help Sam find kingsfoil, I cannot sit here while I might do something to help Frodo." I nodded and he left.

A few minutes had gone past, though it felt longer, when Strider reappeared with a woman at his side. They seemed familiar with each other. She had to be the most beautiful woman that I had seen in my life. I would swear that she radiated light. She knelt beside Frodo, whispering in an unknown tongue as Strider applied the kingsfoil.

"I will take him to my father," she declared, heading for a horse that followed them into the clearing. Strider did not like that and began to argue with her in her language. Needless to say I became annoyed.

"I do not know what you are saying," I began in an angry tone, "but you are wasting time that could be used to save Frodo." That got their attention and the lady looked at me with something akin to thankfulness.

Strider nodded and as she settled into the saddle he handed Frodo to her. A few words later and they bolted off into the night. I muttered a prayer for their safety and handed him his sword.

"We will rest here tonight," he said.

"But shouldn't we follow after Frodo?" Pippin asked, somehow managing to sound confused and concerned at once. 

Our leader shook his head. "He is in capable hands with Arwen. We will follow on foot in the morning and chances are she will send someone with horses to find us."

There was no more talking again that night. Though we tried none of us got any sleep and morning came very early.

_**It's a bit rough I know, but I really wanted to get an update out to you all. Let me know what you think.**_

_**Blessings, Endurance. **_


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